snacking a conversation at the target.

While sipping on some diet yum and icees, a group of women sat behind us.

The group consisted of a grandma, mother, and her daughter. But the grandmother was old. As in, my grandmothers age. right now. if she was living.

Grandma had an interesting tick, as in she coughed frequently.

After a few rounds of this, Millie yelled very loudly:

Old people...(long pause)...old people...(long pause)...when people are old that means they cough.

In response, trying to assure our neighbors that we are not of the ageist sort chez our table, all I could think to scream in response:

Not necessarily.

And then on to a new topic.

I don't think it worked though. Because the women became pretty quiet.

And then grandma coughed.

Again.


photo via soylentgreen23

biased again.

I'm not sure. Perhaps this has come up before. But I would like to admit it again.

I don't like beautiful women. I just don't.

I realize that those of you who I do like are now re-evaluating our friendship, thinking that I just called you ugly. But no. I'm not talking about your down to earth beauty (which I find to be the most attractive.)

I'm talking about those women who are so beautiful that you can't stop staring. Wondering which lab and who they were cloned from?

Have you ever noticed that they seem to congregate together?

I just saw four. Walking, sitting, and clinging to one another.

All in heels and makeup with long, loosely curled hair and banana republic looking dresses. Actually something more than the republic. Only I don't know what it would be.

And I was completely put off. I knew that I didn't like them. Because:

1. They were all together. And the word that came to mind was clique - having no desire to interact with those of us of normal caliber.
   


2. They looked perfect. Per.fect. Really. Who has time for that? I don't. And I guess it's about values. I don't value spending time on such things. Me? I value reading, or working, or sleep. Okay. I really just value sleep.
   


3. Who has money to spend on that? Nude shoes that match a nude dress? How often does one wear nude heels? Money spent on matching bags and matching makeup and keeping that hair blond. Um, I tried blond once and I know about upkeep. Never again. A bit of insanity goes into that. I would rather spend my money on bills, dirt, ballet classes or a PhD application.

So why am I sharing this? Because I thought it. And I am biased. And I know that's mean. I don't think it will ever go away. But admitting it kind of makes me feel better.

photo via Tammy Manet

concerned.

Millie dipped her hair in the toilet today. And it had not been flushed.

She tried to hide it. But I walked by and she was making strange motions with her hands over the toilet, as though conjuring some spell from the bowels of a cauldron.

Why? Why? Other than a vicious desire to get sick?

I want a shower.

So it was my fault. Because a few weeks ago, we had a dipping incident, and my solution was to toss her in the shower.

And she connected the two.

What a fun connection. Don't you think?

photo via pequeña esquimal

loving this.

Maybe, just maybe, if football was more like this I would enjoy it.



Thank you Glee.

in a pattern...

...that consists of this:

1. 4 year old disappears


2. and is found sitting in closet with door closed


3. multiple times in one day.


4. screaming for mom to wipe when


5. underwear needs to be cleaned out.


6. waking multiple times throughout the night


7. to again wipe up the screams.


8. and emergencies similar to this occurring at the store, or library, or dance, or [choose your own adventure and place it here.]

Yesterday, in an attempt to end the cycle, we spent all day on time out. Not any old time out, but pooping time out. Where the offender spends a day in a toy-less room until success.

And treasures of movies, treats, library, hot dogs, and bike rides were laid out before the prisoner in an attempt to hurry up this process.

Eight hours later, success. And a trip to the library, with hot dogs for dinner.

But I will admit. It felt like prison for all. And we are cherishing our current freedom until the cycle picks up. again.

photo via 'smil

reading you.

Do you ever read blogs and leave them feeling like an awful, horrible, person, mom?

If you answer no, then you are not human. And I think you're lying.

Really.

I do.

Because today I left each blog a worse person than the one who entered.

And I hope that I never do that. Let you leave feeling worse than you did when you started reading. I want you to say:

Thank goodness. At least I'm not her. I will always be one parenting step above. I've got my act together, and my rockin' mom skilz workin' it in comparison.

And I think that shall be my gift to the world. Maybe not the gift to my children. But to the world? Yes.

up a hill..

This bike was purchased for birthday #4. Back in April.

Yesterday. 9/21/09 was the first day that she sat on it longer than 2 seconds.

And after 2 jaunts down this sidewalk, all she wanted was to go longer. While I walked behind her pushing Ellis in a stroller.

But we live on a hill. And for one who can barely pedal at a downward angle, I did not see us going up anytime soon.

But with enough demanding, I caved. Up hill we went.

And we went around the block. All were happy. Until we reached the top of the hill and were ready to go down. That is when the tears erupted, in loud exclamations of poopy pants, and hating helmets.

I finally got her back on the bike, and within 3 houses of home, she practically rode into an intersection before throwing herself onto the curb. And then we walked home.

through scrapes and screams.

reminding you. just in case you forgot...

that Neil Patrick Harris rocks.

and almost caused marital strife due to someone's fast finger on the remote's forward button last night.

because i made clin watch every NPH second of the emmys. and oh so fun.

p.s. john cryer???? over NPH??? come on. what is the world coming to.

saving me some money!

You ever seen 40 pounds of chicken?

Lucky you. Today is your day!

And this is 40 pounds of chicken packaged and ready for my freezer.

Guess what's for dinner?

beating...

There's very little that gets my heart excited. Moving.

Yes.

I am that immobile.

But every once in awhile something will come up and make me beat. Constantly. So much so that I obsess. Just a bit. To the point that I can't think of much else.

Remember in high school? When escaping the boredom of one more hour and drifting into that place where you imagine the boy you like calling. Or telling your friend something about you. And just the fact that your name passed his lips can give you ecstatic, skipping happies to fill the rest of the class.

Or

in church, when your thoughts created a new reality. Like passing out as you were walking in front of the congregation. And a heart flutter inducing boy takes charge and comes to your rescue. Either involving CPR or lifting you with bulging arms, veins, and back to secure safety.

I just don' t have much need for such day dreams anymore. And I'm okay with that. Because now I have reality, which is better.

But every once in awhile my heart will jump, and I will look forward to something. Nothing to do with boys. But here I am embarrassed to admit what it is. Because my skips stalled last night. And that's okay. Because that is reality.

photo via Gabriela Camerotti

in the fog of a hangover.

Dear Me,

Please take note, the next time you decide to hold a 2:00 AM grading session, the headache you felt when a 2 year old lobbed a bucket of sidewalk chalk at your head.

Her timing must be genetic, although skipping a generation, because it took you right back to the water, trumpets, and grate scraping that marked the mornings of your youth.

And you don't want to relive that again. Do you?

Me

photo via stevendepolo

inactive, observant, and foreshadowing.

today. we went to the park. for pooping. not at the park. but in honor of the act at home. But that's another story.

a group of kids were playing together, parents meeting to socialize. kids meeting to play.

my girls were the only others on the play equipment.

as i helped ellis climb a mountain, i heard the group of kids asking millie her name. and she wouldn't tell them. i couldn't hear exactly what they were saying in return, but sat down to listen, because it sounded negative. and i wanted to see what millie would do.

then i heard millie say: my grandmother paints my toenails.

a response, and then millie: what. ever.

then the boys went for it: WHAT EVER. What is your name? If you don't tell me your name, then I'm going to poison you.

millie just stood and looked at them. but didn't show anything on her face.

boys: what is your name? you're dumb.

i was ready to jump in. but millie didn't seem scared, or worried, or sad. just stood there.

and that made me sad.

then the boys and 1 girl approached her. and got in her face. What is your name?

and she didn't even move. she was frozen. frozen. and i couldn't understand, but tried to figure out what was going on in her mind.

just as i was about to approach, the smallest girl in the group walked up and stood next to millie. then she put her arm around millie. and millie didn't budge. but neither did the small girl. and they both stood frozen together.

facing the onslaught.

it wasn't until i suggested the swings that millie responded to anyone. and so did the small girl. and we walked away.

and i was happy that millie didn't get mad. or outwardly sad.

i hope that she saw what i saw.

i tried to explain

but only time will tell

which group she chooses to befriend.

loving...

everything about this movie.

really. thank you non-linear stories about non-linear love.

and this movie makes everything look beautiful. even L.A. so much so that for the first part i kept thinking it was set in NY. because that is the city of cool movie coolness and beauty.

but they transplanted NY happy into an LA state of beauty. and made the two leads my best friends. okay, not really. but they did make me like them. more than i should.

so much so, that i want bangs. and dresses. just like these.

scammed.

I'd like to say that Martha made me do it. And she did. Kind of. Or at least one of the magazines in her empire did.

The recipe calls for heirloom tomatoes. And there they were. All orange, and imperfect. And the word heirloom kind of draws you in. Doesn't it?

Assuming they couldn't be much more than all the other tomatoes in the aisle, I picked a large one. Thinking that I could save money by only getting one and throwing regular, old, reddies in with the beaut.

So I didn't pay attention at checkout, because the hoodlums were climbing on top of the car grocery cart, throwing flip flops at customers, screaming, and pulling at anything they could get their hands on.

And now. As I look at the receipt. Martha can be blamed. For the college educations, retirement, and fortunes that fade from our future.

beyond excited

for when i can save my pennies and jam.

Best idea ever. And I hope they make lots of money from it.

Because I think it will be worth the price.

completely recommending...

being someone who doesn't enjoy animals, i do not get excited about movies that include them as prominent characters. which left me pleasantly surprised when i LOVED this movie.

And


i was depressed when this book ended. because it was really good. and there is nothing better than a fabulous book that keeps you reading until 2 in the AM.

listening and learning.

today.

i'm sitting down with a 2 year old.

and a 4 year old.

and I'm watching this.

because even though they aren't yet in school, they will be. and i believe that the message to work hard and never give up is good. positive.

and sometimes hearing it from someone other than mom and dad can inspire.

and my girls will probably wrestle through the entire thing. but maybe, just maybe, they will hear something about the importance of education, hard work, and personal responsibility.

and those are universal truths, important for all.

and i hope that they remember.


photo via mrsrichardson823

desperate.

I must have looked frazzled. And I will admit that Millie looked like she had been rolling around in a dust bin.

Thinking it would be a nice family outing to the store. You know, the one where the girls each get their own mini grocery cart, and each parent guides one to different items. Divide, conquer, in, and out.

Once in the 15 items or less lane, I remember the deli meat that I had a coupon for. Which was supposed to be free. And thinking this was worth it, I left Clin, the carts, the girls, and the food for meat.

I return as Millie attempts to shower the conveyor belt with candy, Ellis clambers for daddy, and then Millie's showering erupts into screams. I take the girls and wait for Clin to pay.

That is when all conquering came to an abrupt stop. The cashier laughs at my coupons, saying I can't use a buy one get one free, when they are already buy one get one free. So then I say I don't want the meat.

And the girls are pushing their carts full of bags in circles, bumping customers. And Ellis laughs. And Millie cries.

Upon closer look at the bags, someone purchased lime flavored mayonnaise and jalapenos. Neither on the shopping list. Clin is the first to claim innocence. But he was the one with the wallet. And as he returns the items...

The woman who was behind us in line approaches:

Woman: Are you okay?

Me: (now thinking that I must look really angry, or frazzled, or desperate, or like a dust bin) oh, yes. fine. we just brought the girls shopping too late in the day.

Woman: Oh, we are doing the same.

Although I don't see any children with her.

Woman: I wanted to tell you that there is a co-op, where you can go to get food once a month. And it is half off.

And she gave me the website.

I didn't say a word. Only to think that if I nod long enough she will go away. Because I'm sure we wouldn't qualify for a co-op. Nor do we need one.

But our daughters did look harried. It was 7:00 PM, and dinner had not yet been served.

As I usher the girls out to put away the carts, the woman returns.

Woman: I was also thinking...we have a peach orchard. Not large, but I don't sell them and we never eat them all. You could come and take them for free. Do you can?

Me: Uh, sometimes.

Although not really. I didn't truly lie because once I canned peaches with Clin's Mom. But it was only once. And not by myself.

Now I was just trying to nod and answer questions as quickly as would allow this situation to pass.

Woman: Well, where do you live? Can I contact you? I just live behind this store.

So I wrote down her name and number. Clin returned, the crying returned, and we were on our way.

I wish that I could have said, we are fine. really. our cupboards are full. and you are generous. i am just a cheap woman who really likes a deal. and attempts to use coupons when I'm told they work.

But what do you say to someone who is trying to help?

I am beyond.

Embarrassed.

Still.

celebrating his 34th.

Happy birthday Clin-

For you I pledge to not be annoyed, or rather, not share such annoyances with you all day long. Because I'm selfless like that. Right? But feel free to be annoyed with me. Because I kind of deserve it right now. And you should tell me all about it too. That would make me feel better.

And yesterday, my gift was breaking my personal goal and eating:

popcorn,

bread, and

pound cake, strawberries, brownies, rice krispy treats, marshmallows, cheesecake and bananas all dipped in cookies and cream chocolate fondue.

It was good. But it hurt.

All for you.

Happy Birthday.

Thanks for being a year older with me. Really. I love it.

married to a teacher.

and i like that. because i like his students. and the theatre program that he works with. and i like to hear about it, and help....sometimes.

but i don't help often. and i feel a nuissance at times. because we don't agree on things. so i listen. but that's it. mostly.

he's layed back. and i'm not.

and then i think about our kids. and what i want for them. and it takes money. and that makes me want to work.

and that brings me back to school.

photo via jaako

itchin'...

to go back to school.

Really.

i want a doctor before my name. if not for any reason other than to tell clin that he has to refer to me as doctor...

and i think it would be fun.

you know. when you get a thought and your stomach goes all giddy? that is me. giddy 'ol me. lately. everytime i think about getting some aloneness in a quiet room, overflowing with stacks and stacks of books. ruminating in my own thoughts. and taking time to do it.

and there are lots of reasons to go to that place.

+ grant money that, if accepted, could afford me a degree with little or no debt on my part.

+ distance program to enable me to work from home. while the girlies pull and scream at my elbows.

+ secure my position teaching online.

+ future in teaching/research more of a possibility.

and a few negatives. too.

- program is in nursing. and i don't want to study geriatrics. but possibility they could let me stretch my degree to cover my interests.

- i have to re-take the GRE. and my math skills stink.

- kiddies at home. still. as in, not in school. yet. which equals pulling and screaming at my elbow.

- clin not so supportive of the timing. but it's about me. right?

But there's so much more behind this. personal, cultural, economic and social influences.

what would you do?

selfish. again.

Um. I know. I have a problem. But they were on sale. A really good sale. So I bought.

And then got home and realized that I didn't even buy one case for Clin.

It being his birthday month and all.

I feel guilty. About my continually forgetting. everyone but me.

And now that I re-read yesterdays post it sounds like I'm taking pride in my generic, boring, low-maintenance ways.

I'm not.

up to the task.

You know those movies where kids are raised in an environment of whimsy and joy? One where their days center around pure imagination? And the mother goes with it. Just knows what to say to take her kids away from reality and into perfection.

I know someone like that. Who can turn life into marshmallow fluffy goodness.

Sometimes I think that if I really put forth the effort. Really focused on the task, that I, too, could create a world of rainbows, lions, candy coated leaves, giant ants, and happy.

But I don't. I'm just selfish like that.